Wind-blown and rain-driven across borders, soaring over walls and mountains on Pegasus wings,
dancing down streets of small towns and suburban cul-de-sacs, around glassy-eyed tall buildings
of sprawling cities...

a world traveler with no passport, visa, or destination, one is bound to hear differences of opinion,
of interpretation, even on spiritual matters, enjoyed and passed around, chewed over and disputed.
Once the anthropologists have gone home and the tape recorders are turned off, is Poseidon's arrival
a catastrophe, or the surge before a tranquil sea returns?